Disclaimer: This is fanfiction, so it has not been endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros. I/We do not earn any money from this work or in any way claim ownership of Harry Potter. If we did, the last book would have been VERY different.

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Prologue

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I love you. No regrets, no worries, because you were worth everything... Be safe, my love. Find happiness. And when the time comes, I will be waiting by the banks of the river of oblivion.

-Merenwen

* * *

Run.

Her faltering, struggling breath panted the words with each push of her aching lungs.

Run faster.

The steam of her breath as it hit the night air seemed to his the words as it dissipated into the sky.

Run harder.

Rivulets of sweat dripped down her back, tracing the words in salty paths across her skin.

Run farther.

The words were echoed in the cadence of feet hitting pavement, an incessant, drumming chant that surrounded her as she pushed forward through the dim light.

Run away.

Run away.

Run away.

She ran, arms pumping, legs straining, soles throbbing more with each and every step. She forced herself to run, to run for her forfeit life. To run faster, run harder, run farther, in the hope that the little life she’d left behind, the little life she’d hidden away, the little life she would – no, had – willingly given her life for. It was this thought that gave her the fortitude to go on: she was lost, she had lost hope. But her child – she could live just a little longer, somehow find the energy to take just one more step, turn just one more corner, if it meant that she could lead these heartless killers a single step or a single corner farther from her flesh and blood.

A sharp jolt of pain laced up her side. Gasping, she staggered into a wall, a hand on the mottled burn running across her abdomen. No, her mind ordered. No, no, keep going! She drew a rasping breath, stumbling on through the alley. Another step, just one more. Now another, another. Just a little farther. Just one more step. She took another step, and stopped.

As she backed away, she slipped on the slick walk, falling to her knees. When had it started raining? She hadn’t noticed. Odd, how she’d missed that, but now seemed to see every detail in the minutest focus – every pockmark and discoloration on the aged brick wall, how each raindrop broke into twelve smaller droplets as it hit the earth, the billowing black cloaks of the two men, the sadistic glee arcing in their eyes as they advanced.

One leaned down to her. “Shhh… sweetheart. We’ve cordoned off the area. The Muggles can’t hear us - No one’s coming for you.� He smiled – a twisted curving of his thin lips.

She hadn’t thought her heart could speed up any further, but it did.

The other scowled. “Don’t mess around, Smith. Make sure it’s really the Elf.� His voice was colder, and he spoke with authority.

Mirroring the scowl, Smith leered at the woman sprawled against the wall. “Merenwen Seragón?� He turned back. “I’m sure this is her. She’s even prettier than in the picture.� His finger traced her jaw line.

“Don’t forget the objective.�

“Yes, sir.� He looked into her eyes, whispering, “Don’t worry, darling. We’re only supposed to kill you.�

She spat in his face.

“Bitch,� he yelped. The back of his hand smashed against her cheek, and her head met the wall with a resounding crash. Merenwen whimpered, no longer caring how pathetic it sounded. Curling into a ball, she tried to shield herself from the ensuing kicks, to her kidneys, her back, her face. The blood running from her nose mixed from the blood she coughed.

“Enough,� the cold one demanded. He pointed his wand at the gasping woman. “We’re here to leave a message, nothing more.� A shriek of agony and despair tore from her throat as she felt skin, muscle, bone torn apart, leaving a claret-weeping crimson signature engraved across her chest. The mark of the serpent, in a grotesque circle, eating its own tail.

She looked lost, almost confused, as she gazed at the gushing, sanguine wound. Her eyes rose to meet theirs, carrying both reproach and defiance. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes slipped shut, almost sleepily.

“My love…� Merenwen breathed. “My love, be…�

The street was silent, even the patter of the rain seeming to cease for just a moment, in grief and respect for the blood pooling on the cement.

“Merenwen?� The voice came from the darkness, a question, a call. The voice came closer. “Merenwen, darling? Merenwen!� There were hints of panic.

“Merenwen?� Discovery.

“Merenwen.� Disbelief.

“Merenwen!� Despair.

A single tear fell from each eye, one for sorrow, one for loss. He closed his lover’s eyes, face twisted with anger, hate, madness. He swept away into the darkness.

He found them easily. They hadn’t the ability to hide – not from him. Screams pierced the night air, over and over again, blending with relentless curses and unheeded pleas for mercy, a discordant medley of pain marked by the flash of red curses.

***

Miles away, a baby cried.

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A/N: Thanks for reading :D. If you like it, please review.

~Echo + Kibou

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR.

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Chapter 1- Different

I don't remember the moment I first realized I was different. You'd think it'd be something you'd never be able to forget, that you'd forever recall the time you're hit by that sudden stroke of insight that first shows you're not quite the same as the rest. But like with so many other epiphanies – the day you realize you will die, or that the world can be a bitter place– I do not. Maybe I slowly noticed that my family didn't have my dark hair or love for snow, but then, they never made a secret of my adoption. Maybe it was the day I tried to dance in a flame with Fleur but, instead of twining around me in gentle ribbons, it blistered my bare feet. Maybe it was when I first called the wind. Maybe I've always known – but it's been long since I mourned it. I am not my sisters, or my schoolmates; I am myself.

And why would I want to be anyone else?

- Ariane

Ariane yawned and looked up at the cloudless September sky. She smiled, leaning back against the tower and letting the salty sea breeze drift across her face.

"I thought you'd be up here." An amused, bell-like voice cut into her daydream. "Merle, I just heard. André decided not try for the Tournament. With Isabella out, and now him…"

"How was the Charms test, cherie?" Ari asked her sister.

"Simple, of course," Fleur said, waving her hand dismissively. "Don't try to change the subject."

"I wasn't trying to. But it's not all that important, you were far more likely to be chosen than André. Did Madame- " She stopped. Fleur was shaking her head, her silvery-blonde hair catching the sunlight.

"You have far too much faith in my abilities," she answered with a grin. "But in any case, I've got the Championship now. The only others… Claude, Mercedes, Paul-Henri – I should be able to outduel them, my grades are better, and Mercedes hasn't two brain cells to rub together."

"I did tell you, cherie. And I'm truly looking forward to Mama's reaction."

Fleur grimaced. "She's going to be rather displeased with me, I imagine. She might actually kill me this time." She laughed, a bright peal that carried across the sky, drawing longing stares from the boys below. "Madame Maxine approved my application. This morning."

"Of course she did, there's no one else at your level. And Mama will be angry," Ari said soberly. "You know she worries you'll end up crippled. God Forbid, what if you're scarred? Why, however could you go on?" Her straight face broke and she shot her sister a teasing grin.

Fleur chortled, giving Ariane a playful shove. "She can hardly object, since she pushed the Tournament with the Ministry. Besides, I'm sure even those backwards British healers could cure a scar or two."

Ariane shook her head, the mischief faded from her eyes. "She's right, you know. Fleur… people die in that game, and no healer can cure that. I don't think Mama ever bargained on her daughter competing."

"Merle…" Fleur sounded wary. "This is my choice. It's… it's something I need to do."

"You don't need to prove anything," Ari said slowly. "To anyone."

"It's not for anyone else," Fleur answered. "It's for myself. I deserve this chance."

"You do. I just… worry." Ari looked into her sisters eyes, and sighed. "Your recklessness will be the death of you."

"Adventurousness, not recklessness." Fleur waved her hand airily. "You think things through too much. Really, you would have so little fun without me."

"I imagine I would have so few troubles without you," Ariane answered dryly.

Fleur rolled her eyes. "Come with me, Merle."

"What, to England? But I'm not old enough to qualify." Ari stopped, seeing the confident, knowing look spreading across her sibling's face.

"Madame wants to win," Fleur remarked loftily. "And obviously, I'm her best chance. She'll agree to a few of my minor requests."

"So…"

Fleur smiled openly. "She's already agreed. You will come, won't you? I don't know how I'd cope, if you weren't there to talk to. The rest of our delegation seems incapable of holding a conversation without mentioning the Quafflepuncher Keeper's latest fling, or some such vapid nonsense. Besides, all the Heirs in Albion go to Hogwarts. Think of the connections you could make – it'll be good for the future."

Her sister nodded thoughtfully. "And, of course, I could keep you from getting killed."

Fleur glared. "You say that as though I'd fall off a tower without your watchful eyes."

Ari laughed. "Of course not, you're far too graceful for that. But you probably would insult some important noble's son and get challenged to a duel."

"Oh, well, I'd win." Fleur countered, smirking.

"You probably would," Ari answered. She paused for a moment. "You're wrong, cherie. Mama isn't maybe going to kill you – she's definitely going to."

Fleur looked delighted. "Then, you'll come?"

"Gabby is going to be furious, you know. The Tournament's all she's been dreaming about for months. I think she plans to marry a Triwizard Champion."

Fleur beamed. She threw her arms around her dark-haired sister. "Hogwarts won't know what hit it."

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A/N: Merle means blackbird in French, hence the title. Thanks for reading, and if you liked it, please take the time to review. It'd make us very happy people :D

Second A/N:

It's been a (very) long time since our last update… sorry about that. But Blackbird's undergone a reimagining, re-plotting, and re-characterizing. Some of the old posts we'll keep, some we won't, and hopefully updates will be more frequent now. Thanks for reading, understanding, and (hopefully) reviewing.

~Echo + Kibou